The clarion. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1883-1888, 1887-03-30


"Sam has gone to a negro wedding. and
won't be back tonight
The children gathered around while they
talked, and watched Shirley With frightened.
pleading eyes. 1t was Shirleyshey all turned
to IN their troubles, even then She was her
self in moment, the good, brave daughter
again.
Get the pony, Tom, and come with me, v
she said.
She went TO the stable and saddled Pencil
ope, Ulysses mate. In five minutes She and
Tom were on the road to I.inwood Through
the gathering gloom they sped like the wind.
BY the light streaming from the window they
discerned group of persons at the door OF
Simpkins' grocery. A small boy was telling
something to the rest, throwing his arms
about in excitement 1t was the baby tramp,
little Rip. Shirley heard these words:
@He spoke to me sassy, and he saws, Stop,
there, you little devil Gee! but he said it
sassy. Then he kicked his heels into the
horses sides, an he spoke to him like he was
the boss, and told him to go on. But the
horse shook his head TO tell him be wouldn't.
Then the horse jumped on his hind legs like
this. and fell over. The man was throwed
out into the road. The horse didn't get up
again, and the man didn't get up again
They're layin' out there in tine road vet. YOU
betln
Shirley listened with pale lips. 1T is my
father!' she exclaimed Where was il.
boy?p
@out there said the child, jerking his
thumb over his shoulder.
Its out on the State Line turnpike Come
Tom, quick
She was off aylia, like the wind.
food Lord, twas Col Carstone.s ex-
claimed Mis- SimpkinS. What if she goes
out elo1e in the dark aad finds her father
deada Meni follow h-r quics,7
Friendly souls, half dozen stalwart mer,
pursued the girl as rapidly as they might on
horseback. A wagon was hastily got in read
iness and sent after.
Never again had Shirley ride like that.
She was strong, hopeful girl, and always
looked at the bright side. But now she was
overwhelmed with an awful presentiment of
something, she knew not what From the
first moment she expected the worst.
Four miles ont from Linwood the State
Line pike passed through wide, lonely val
ley, wooded q. the sides and fringed with
dense, damp underground of bushes. 1t was
the middle of June. The sky was overcast
with blackness so that scarcely star shone.
Yet the valley was lit by ten million lamps.
above the undergrawth. The damp al Yves
one glow of interfnitting, phosphorescent
light. Never before, or afterward, did Shir-
ley sec fheflies in such gleam of splendor.
In after years she never looked at one of
these light bringing creatures that it did not
recall that night.
Into the heart of this valley, into the black
ness set OFF by millions of infinitesimal, flick
ering stars: into. the loneliness and silence,
Shirley and her awcd young brother rode.
They saw two motionless, formless objects
lying dark against tho dim, white turnpike.
A nameless terror clutched their young hearts
with an icy hand. Tom gave cry which
was echoed back from the hillsides
They dismounted. The friendly riders that
galloped up a little later found Shirley sitting
in the middle of the lonely road with some
thing in her lap, unknowingly swaying back
and forth, and moaning:
20 my father. NV father!'
Little Tom stood close be ide her, holding
tho horses, and weeping bitterly. 1t was a
sight to weaken the stoutest hearts.
And still the myriad firefiies danced up and
down, and cleaned through the blackness
with their quivering, weird spar'sles.
1t was the thoughtfulness of little Mis-
SinpIins that sent the doctor down the road.
He examined the cold, senseless form.
''iIe is not dead, ," he told them. HE is
still breathingl Lift him into the wagon.
There! CAREFUL Get back and give him
air Shirley, get in, and hold your fathers
head on your lap. Jim Sweet, lead her horse
and mine. l will go in the wagon, too
So, through the darkness, the mournful
train headed toward the stone house. Gentle
and kindly, if rough hands, laid Col Car
stone ia his own bed that night. His wife
wept and moanefl-as one bereft of her senses.
1t was Shirley who\ directed the men where
to place him; Shirley who took the doctors
directions and listened to his verdict; Shirley
who sat beside her fathers couch and watched
with sharpened eyesight for sign of returning
consciousness.
The patient had suffered conclusion of the
brain, and was in state of stupor. How
severe the injury was could not be as yet
ascertained All night Shirley sat there. At
daylight the rustic neighbors and people
from the village poured into the house. The
porch was fun of them. They gathered in
the broad Railways and peered over one
anothers shoulders through the door and
windows. Here was an event, something out
of the usual They were making the most of
it, he q ourth of July or suicide. There
was nobody to keep them off.
As the sun began to climb tho heavens, the
injured man stirred family. The first row
of the glpiag crew reported the fact duly to
the row behind, and so the report spread
through the ranks Struggling on the out
skirts was tow-headed Hughie Carter, little
Mis- Simpkins nephew. That worthy dame
was unable to be present in the house of
afYiiction at the first s5reak of dawn, owing to
being ''stuck at home" by the necessity of
opening the grocery. But she bounded Sim
Sinpkins out of bed an hour earlier than
usual. statiored him behind the window with
the box of backing and the two clothespins
in it, and was Off with celerity to join her
neighbors at the stone house. Hughie, at the
steps, saw her afar Off. coming up the path.
Straishtway he sung out the news to her, at
the top OF his piping voice:
Aunt Sail Sa-a-yi Aunt Sally Aunt
Salli He's a-comin tol"
The patient heard 1t. He opened his eyes,
saw his faithful daughter, and then turned
them slowly about the room. He looked
about the room, and saw that he was there in
his own bed. Then he perceived the gap
ing crew at the door and windows He
frowned He turned his questioning eyes on
Shirley. These be the first words he spake
on returning to consciousness. Let them be
duly recorded:
why is the house filed with this INGRAM
matical pack!,'
ash, father said Shirley, 'they are the
neighbors, don't you seer
Shirley was extremely sensitive about hurt
ing peoples feelings. So was her father when
he was in his right mind. But now he was
oply half in his right mind, consequently he
was off his guard and honest. He scanned
the throng once more
@Very ignorant and uncultured persons
habitually hold their mouths open," said be,
slowly and solennnly. Turn them out, Shir-
ley
There is not a tragedy in life but has its
conf: side. Even Hamlet had his merry
gravejigser.
Col. Carstone recovered, to all appear
ances, and went about as usual Shirley's
own httla private grief had lost its sharpness
in the dread shadow of that other greater sor-
row which bad passed so awfully near
them
The girls mind ran once more ON her poem
Her father sympathized with her hopes and
ambitions entirely. He was her counselor
and confidant in all things All thingslS Per-
haps there was just one little corner of her
hearth that she kept veiled from him. Per-
hars. too, this adored and adoring father
knew more even about that little corner than
Shirley thought for.
There was something peculiarly beautiful
and touching in this love between father and
daughter. They were much alike. They
were of strong, intense nature, both, so that
far more than the common tie between parent
and child bound them together, to begin
But there was also superadded to this common
tie an intellectual good comradeship lacking
between most fathers and daughters They
were very near to each other and very much
to each other.
al mean to study and practice writing for
two years, papa" said Shirley When | am
Is shall begin my poeul- 1t IS to be all
about women. won't have man in it, ex-
cent only lust enough to hang the plot on.